


Ticket to Ride

by llaras



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Bodyswap, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llaras/pseuds/llaras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three people wake up on the wrong side of the bed one morning. And they aren't in their own beds. Or their own bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket to Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Part one was originally written and posted nine years ago today. WOW. I am still planning on finishing this. Now that I am getting this up on ao3? Maybe that will be the boost I needed. :-)

*flick*

Faith stares at the flame issuing out of the cheap plastic lighter, watches it flutter and sway as the artificial breeze of the air-conditioner catches it, blows it out.

She is so fucking bored. Two hours of this now. Phone call after phone call. She turned on the television at one point, but she got a look, so she turned it off. If this goes on much longer she may turn to the Bible in the nightstand drawer for entertainment. Anything to keep her mind off of what's going on.

She leans up on one elbow, looks over to Lindsey. He's sitting in a chair by the door, his stockings are torn and she can see the beginnings of a pout starting to form on his ruby-hued lips. She almost wants to laugh.

"This is ridiculous."

She rolls back over on the bed and turns to the room's other occupant. Sees herself sitting primly in the room's only other chair. Watches her hand close a cell phone and put it back in Lilah's purse. Lilah is pissed.

"What?" she asks.

"Voice mail." Lilah purses her lips as she looks down at Faith's ragged fingernails, glances up briefly, then looks away.

Voice mail? Shamans have voice mail? Wait. Shamans have phones?

Nothing should surprise her anymore. Especially not after waking up this morning with a hard-on and a hangover of magnificent proportions. Seems Lindsey had tied a couple on the night before. What fun.

The room is quiet again, though Faith can almost hear the echoes of the shouting match from earlier, still bouncing off the peeling gilt wallpaper and worn down shag carpeting of this crummy hotel room. Accusations, threats, promises of slow torture and curses, finally ending in a crash as Lilah threw the phone at the mirror above the dresser, shattering it into a million glinting fragments. Guess she isn't used to her new found Slayer strength yet.

Lindsey is muttering to himself now, hunched over, his hands pulling back Lilah's hair, holding it away from his face.

Faith's had enough. She doesn't want to be here for round two, is tired of listening to them scream at each other, and is in dire need of a cigarette. And it's confusing as hell, besides. At least when she switched bodies with Buffy she knew what she was doing, had a good idea of what to expect. None of them have any idea how this happened or why the three of them in particular have undergone this change. Though Lilah and Lindsey seem to think the other is at fault, Faith knows better, she sees the rage and uncertainty that clouds her own eyes as Lilah fights to find an answer. She sees the despair and the embarrassment in every shift and grimace of Lilah's face as Lindsey tries to come to terms with the fact that he now inhabits the body of someone he despises.

It's almost enough, watching the two of them struggle to sort out this mess, that she is distracted from her own frustration and fear. Almost.

"I'm going to the store," she says, schooling her own voice to confidence, ignoring how deep and unfamiliar her own words sound now. She checks Lindsey's back pocket for his wallet, one eyebrow raised at him in challenge. He can afford it, the bastard. She's going to do some damage herself, mortal body be damned, if she doesn't do something about this headache soon.

"You two want anything?"

"Scotch," they reply in unison.

And she's out the door before they can resume glaring at each other.


End file.
